The light was still there. She knelt by the
open window in her nightgown and watched the light for a long time.
When it finally was extinguished she crept into bed.
She heard the nasal tones of the two old people below, for her door
on the stairs was open. She heard, too, the occasional cry of a
night fowl and, in the distance, the barking of an uneasy watchdog.
But after all, and in spite of the many, many thoughts which
shuttled to and fro in her mind, she did not lie awake for long. It
was a clear and sparkling night; there were no foghorns to disturb
her dreams with their raucous warnings, and the surf along the
beaches below the Head merely scuffed its way up and down the strand
with a soothing "Hush! Hush-sh!"
At dawn, however, there came a noise which roused the newcomer to
Wreckers' Head. She awoke with a start. Something had clattered upon
her window sill, that window looking toward the north. She sat
upright in bed to listen. The clatter was repeated. In the dim, gray
light she saw several tiny objects bounding into the room.
She scrambled out of the high four-poster and shrugged her feet into
slippers. She crept to the window, holding the nightgown close at
the neck.
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